


Wireless Radio

by maremote



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Missing a dead century, Sadness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 03:57:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14729507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maremote/pseuds/maremote
Summary: There are a lot of things that are different, here on the other side of the Valkyrie's crash, Steve thinks to himself.(OR, Five times something was different in the new century and one time it was the same.)





	Wireless Radio

Steve always loved coffee.

He barely ever had it before the serum. It made his heart skip and j ump in a way that had more to do with the weakness of his chest than anything else, though; and Bucky put a stop to it after he found him gasping and clutching at his chest on the floor. Bucky nearly had a panic attack when none of the asthma treatments worked, and Steve gasped out, “Heart… hurts…”

Steve had woken up with Bucky standing beside his bed. As soon as Bucky noticed he was awake, an expression of such utter relief dashed across his face, and he collapsed into a chair, his face in his hands.

“Jesus,” he breathed. “Jesus…Christ. You…stupid…jerk.”

And Steve grinned because that was what he did when Bucky got like this, and Bucky just _looked_ at him with an expression of pure and utter disbelief.

Of course, after the serum, there weren’t many opportunities to sit around drinking coffee. The first time he did it, Bucky glared at him the entire time with something that faintly resembled fear, (only it couldn’t be, because Bucky _never got scared_ ) and then took a shaky breath when he finished and rubbed his face with his hands. “You’ll be the death of me, Steven Grant Rogers.” Steve gave him that grin again, and the Howlies exchanged confused looks.

Then after the _Valkyrie_ … well. He’d been in Stark Tower, talking to Barton in the kitchen, and Stark had offered a cup of coffee. He’d accepted, longing for something familiar.

The moment the hot coffee touched his tongue, he knew it’d been a mistake. He came up spluttering and coughing. Tony had given him a strange look, Barton’s had been more curious. Steve’s face burned. He muttered an apology and forced the rest of the coffee down his throat. Tony had shrugged and walked off, saying something about some ‘diagnostics’ to JARVIS, the man in the wall, but Steve had felt Barton’s eyes on him, even if when he turned to look at him, the archer was very pointedly _not_ looking at him.

As soon as he was done, he left the room, completely forgetting the conversation he’d abandoned. He forced himself to walk slowly until he was out of sight.

Steve threw up into the toilet, shaking violently. He could still see Tony’s face, confused, eyebrows drawn in just like Bucky’s would when he was about to yell at Steve for not taking proper care of himself.

He left the bathroom pale and shaken. Barton was walking past and eyed him suspiciously. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Steve managed to choke out, sounding as normal as possible.

 

The next day, Steve wandered idly through a grocery store until he came to the coffee aisle. He was about to give up hope of finding anything simple when he saw a brand he recognized. Standing there in the middle of some obscure grocery store, holding a plastic jar of Maxwell’s Instant Coffee, he was suddenly on the battlefield again, sharing the Maxwell’s Instant that came in each of their rations with the other soldiers. _But George- they say it’s Good To The Last Drop!_ The old slogan flashed through his head, and he made a sound that was either a bitten-off laugh or a barely choked sob. He paid for the jar, his hands shaking, and made his way back to his apartment.

He didn’t dare to hope it would be the same- well, that wasn’t entirely true. Steve _tried_ not to let himself hope, but he was so damn _optimistic_. Standing frozen in his kitchen, a jar of coffee clenched in his fist so tightly the plastic warped, he could hear Bucky’s voice in his ear.

_“What the hell did you think you were doing?”_

_“Drinking coffee.”_

_“Don’t be smart with me. You almost had a heart attack. You know what’s that like, Stevie? Watching your best friend just… die?”_

_“…but I didn’t die.”_

_“No.” Bucky’s expression softened because hey, it was true. “You didn’t.”_

Steve’s hands were shaky as he took the kettle off the heat and poured a mug full. When the coffee was ready, he sat at his table. And the ridiculousness of the situation washed over him again in all its glory.

He took a sip.

It wasn’t the same. He wasn’t surprised. Disappointed, yes, but not surprised. Nothing would _ever_ be the same.

But it was close enough. (It was all he was going to get, anyway.)

Steve heard a knock at the door, and rose to get it.

It was Barton.

Steve blinked in surprise. “Agent Barton. What can I do for you?”

Barton smirked. “You can let me in, for one.”

“Of course.” Steve stepped aside to let him in. “Now, Agent Barton-,”

He waved a hand. “Clint.”

“All right, _Clint._ ” He paused. “How may I help you?”

Agent Barton- _Clint_ looked around his apartment, the fading ghost of his smirk still on his face. “Jesus, Cap. You _live_ here?”

Steve looked around. It wasn’t the most luxurious of apartments, but Steve for the life of him couldn’t quite put his finger on what was causing Age- _Clint_ so much surprise. “Yeah. Why?”

Clint scoffed. “Just moved in?”

Steve stared at him blankly. “No.”

There was an awkward pause before Clint looked away. “Right. Okay. Do you have a kitchen, or is that too extravagant for Captain America?”

 _Stephen Grant Rogers, also known as Captain America-_ no. That was what Bucky saw. _Captain America, also known as Stephen Grant Rogers._ That was better.

“Uh, yeah. This way,” he turned to lead the way to the kitchen, “did you, uh… want something to drink?” “Coffee?” asked Clint inquiringly, his gaze resting curiously on the jar on the counter. Steve’s heart skipped a beat, and he didn’t think it was his heart, or the coffee. “Sure,” he said, clearing his throat nervously. Clint threw him a sidelong glance and a dismissive wave. “Don’t bother, Cap.” _Captain America, also known as Stephen Grant_ \- “I meant should you be drinking that?”

Steve stiffened. “Why not?”

Clint held up his hands in a placating gesture. “No offense, Cap.” _Captain America, also known as Stephen-_ “I just meant, I didn’t think it sat well with your stomach. Or is that just Tony’s special blend?”

Steve’s hands suddenly felt twitch. Slowly, he pressed his index finger’s nails into the pad of his thumb. The sharpness of the contact was reassuring and he took a breath. “It’s just coffee. It’s fine.” All this was giving him a headache. “Was there something you wanted?”

Clint threw another glance his way. “The color blue.”

Steve blinked. “What?”

Clint sighed, throwing himself down into one of the kitchen chairs. Steve stayed standing. “Fuck it, Cap-,” _Captain America, also known as-_ “I used to fucking love that color. Was my second favorite, after purple. But then,” he waved a hand in the air. “Loki. All that shit.”

Steve felt something in him unclench. “I understand.”

Clint looked at him pointedly, and Steve struggled not to flinch. “I know you do.” Mercifully, he redirected his gaze to the kitchen wall. “But now I can’t look at it anymore. Without thinking of- you know.”

“Loki.”

“Yeah, that fucker.” Steve winced at the casual profanity. Only guy who swore like that amongst all the Howlies- “And Coulson. How I killed him.”

Steve snapped back to attention. “You didn’t kill him. Loki did.”

“Yeah?” Clint muttered. “I don’t know, Cap.” _Captain America, also known-_ “It would’ve taken two seconds. Just,” he made a vague motion. “Step back. And none of it would have happened.”

“You’re not responsible,” Steve said softly. _But_ _I am._ “It’s okay to feel like you are.”

Clint cleared his throat. “You know what else is okay? Not liking coffee.”

“I love coffee.” The words slipped out before Steve could stop himself.

Clint raised an eyebrow. “Just not the high-end stuff, then?”

“No, it’s- I-,” Steve pressed his knuckles into his eyes. “It’s complicated.”

“Yeah,” Clint agreed. “Our type of fuckery usually is. But you know what, Cap?”

 _Captain America, also-_ “What?”

Clint looked at him seriously.

Steve fidgeted nervously.

Clint smirked, shoving himself away from the table. “I don’t know, man. I’m not a fucking therapist. I’m not going to give you some kind of deep revelation you haven’t thought about already. All I know is-,” and now Clint was standing in the doorway- “I’m _really_ glad Stark’s designing you a new suit, otherwise I’d probably have to stop myself from shooting you every time you put on that last-millenium bullshit.” He winked and strode away down the hallway, hollering over his shoulder, “See ya, Cap!”

_Captain America._

Captain America wasn’t afraid of coffee. Neither was Steve Rogers.

It just made him a little… nervous, that was it.

Truth was, he sincerely doubted Clint would shoot him if he showed up in baby blue.

But he got nervous too.

He could see it in the tense lines that formed in his face, in the forced flippancy, the profanity used to cover up the hurt, the quick exit when things got too personal.

Everyone had a coping strategy, and this was Clint’s. Was it healthy? Probably not. Was he going to lecture him about it?

Hell, no. He did the exact same thing.

(Except the swearing. Clint should really watch his language.)

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr. https://fandomsallweekfolks.tumblr.com/


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